


Sunny Side Up

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greece and Spain's bonding time includes lounging around Europe's nude beaches. Romano is not impressed. A kink meme de-anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny Side Up

**Author's Note:**

> [Original kink meme request](http://hetalia-kink.dreamwidth.org/81081.html?thread=488656313#cmt488656313)
> 
>  
> 
> Song inspiration: "Sound of Sunshine" Michael Franti and Spearhead

“Pass the wine? _Gracias_.” Spain leans back against the lounge chair, taking a swig straight from the bottle. When he swallows, his lips pucker before relaxing into a peaceful smirk. He looks over to his companion, winking halfheartedly.

“Like it?”

“The tang’s unexpected.” Spain swallows again, Adam’s apple bobbing. “But the taste… _bueno_.”

“Nothing but the best from Rhodes,” Greece comments affirmatively. He gives a feline-like stretch, arms and legs hyper-extended as he inhales a hearty gulp of sun-kissed and sandy beach air. Spain watches his companion’s exposed chest rise and fall.

“The process is rather old, no?” Spain asks, passing the bottle to Greece.

“It has been used for over two thousand years. Modern methods don’t compare.”

“I wouldn’t mention that to France.”

“Actually, he visits my home quite often to sample the local drink.” Greece lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks. The glass bottom glints under harsh sunlight. “And the local nightlife.”

Spain laughs and nearly drops the bottle Greece passed to him yet again. “France is France, after all.” He groans, brushing some sweat from his forehead and wiping his hand on the towel beneath his bare hips. “ _¡Hace calor!_ ”

Greece sighs pensively and stretches again, lifting his hips toward the sky. His joints crack in protest as he leans forward, folding himself in half with his chest pushed against his thighs. “Though nothing is better than a Mediterranean summer on the beach, _ne_?”

Spain can only smile and drink more. He closes his eyes, allowing the heat to pull him into dreamy haze.

“Bastard, why can’t you spend the summer on your _own_ beach!” An angry voice nearly makes him jump off his chair. “You, too, Greece!”

“ _Hola_ , Romano!” Spain greets cheerfully, nonchalantly reaching down to shift his balls as he raises himself into a sitting position.

“Don’t touch that! No one here wants to see that, bastard! Cover yourselves!”

“Oh, Romano. Haven’t you read the signs? This beach is _clothing optional_.” Spain is smiling as he speaks. “I guess you don’t come here often even though this is _your_ beach.” He playfully snatches the bottom of Romano’s t-shirt. “Here, let me help, _amigo_.”

“Hands off, bastard! I choose the option of keeping my clothes _on_ , thank you!” Romano’s temper flares as he grabs the towel from under Spain’s exposed rear and hastily tosses it over his lap. “Now leave! Both of you have your own shares of ‘clothing optional’ resorts, so why the hell are you here?”

“Southern Italy is beautiful this time of year, no?” Spain directs his question at Greece, who nods sleepily in response. “And this beach is _public_. Wouldn’t want to have to tell your boss you were being rude to the _tourists_ again, would we?” It’s definitely a threat.

“Bastard.” Romano crosses his arms in a huff. He throws a hand over his eyes and swears when Spain removes the towel covering his waist and leans back against the chair.

“I’m trying to work on my tan. I’ll stop by for a visit later, okay, dear?”

Romano releases another string of expletives as he angrily stomps away, muttering about diplomatic relations and declarations of war.

When he’s out of their sight, Spain and Greece stand in unison and rearrange their towels around their waists. Greece slips the wine bottle into his bag as they make their way toward the exit.

“That was fun. So,” Greece pauses to scratch an itch near his navel, “Patara next weekend?”

Spain grins, eyes sparkling mischievously. “ _Sí_.”

 

_Fifteen minutes later…_

“Why the hell can’t I have their passports revoked? Bastards!”

**_Fin_ **

**Author's Note:**

> The wine they are drinking is retsina, made in a process that is at least 2000 years old. It is commonly made from Athiri grapes, which are grown in Rhodes (among other places) and apparently taste like lemon. Maybe Romano should be upset with Greece for smuggling drink into his country?
> 
> I’m not up-to-date on my knowledge of European nude beaches, so my information is courtesy of Wikipedia. Can you drink on them? I don’t know. Probably.
> 
> And just in case anyone wonders: Romano written as ~~pissed off~~ irritated isn’t because I think he has something against nude beaches. It’s more of an I’m-very-particular-whose-junk-is-exposed-in-my-country-especially-when-it’s-the-junk-of-my-former-guardian reaction. That and maybe he’s a little flustered? ;)
> 
> Also, Patara is in Turkey. Oh, Greece, I love you.


End file.
